


It's Almost Official

by mother_finch



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Gen, mother-finch fiction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-21
Updated: 2015-08-21
Packaged: 2018-04-16 09:50:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4620819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mother_finch/pseuds/mother_finch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>PROMPT: (to the best of my remembrance) Write a story like: Shaw taking Root to a restaurant and Shaw gives Root a ring, but tells her it’s only to get guys to stop hitting on her and she’s sick of it. Then she goes and takes her some place busy or something. At the end of the night Root goes to give it back, but Shaw doesn’t want it back because she wants to get married. Well, not even married, she just wants people to know that Root is hers. (then there was a little comment and a smiley face.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	It's Almost Official

Whoever said the stars are big and bright deep in the heart of Texas, they weren't lying. Everywhere else seemed dull in comparison, especially Manhattan, whose bright street lights chase the stars away like unwelcome pests. Root had always enjoyed the stars, grown up under them- wondering about the something more that is the universe. The air, too, was always hot but clean, even in the cities. Here, smells remain trapped and exhaust seeps into the lungs of every passer by. Still, she couldn't think of a place she'd rather be, or a city she'd rather live in, than this one- starless skies and all.

"Root, you with me?" Sameen Shaw asks, knocking Root from her musings. Blinking a few times, she looks over to Shaw, who walks at her side. Her face is turned Root's way, eyes dark and unreadable and searing Root's skin.

Root smiles easily, the mere sight of Shaw's expressionless face and steel eyes bringing the flitter of butterflies to her stomach. Flipping her hair over one shoulder, Root leans into Shaw until her upper arm grazes Shaw's shoulder.

"Always," she replies, laying on an extra layer of charm and a grin, just to the right effect. Shaw rolls her eyes, looking straight ahead once more as she sighs, lips twitching like they are considering a smile, but not at all allowing it through. Root can feel her heart begin to beat faster, biting the corner of her bottom lip as she looks back to the sky.

_Bliss._

* * *

 

It's the only word worthy of summing up what she feels so completely. Walking down a moderately busied street under a dirty night sky, surrounded by the sounds of whizzing cars with Sameen Shaw.  _With Sameen Shaw_ , Root things to herself pleasurably, happiness bubbling up within her.  _On our way to dinner._

They'd been together for a little over a month, and still, Root could wake up in the morning to a full blown heart attack. The shock of opening her eyes just to see Shaw's face- to feeling Shaw's waist just under her fingertips- it was electrifying. Almost each day that one or the other stayed the night, Root was greeted with a jolt of surprise and a surge of delight as a wakeup call. It was the best feeling, and it wasn't the only time she felt it.

_Like now._

Root peers back over to Shaw, and a nerve wracking tingle sends a shiver down her spine. Having Shaw so close and knowing that she is all Root's? It's overwhelming in the lamest terms. Root can't help but feel like a school girl with how her nerves fly and her heart soars at random moments; moments when the realization hits her.  _And this is one of those random moments._

With a devious smile curling on her lips and a wickedly indulgent glint in her eyes, Root leans in. Slowly, like a cheetah stalking its prey, she shifts her side closer to Shaw's, tilting down slightly. Taking a quick glance down before her eyes snap back straight ahead, she imperceptibly slips her hand into Shaw's, fingers intertwining with Shaw's in a smooth but sluggish rate. As if- at any second- Shaw would pull away if her movements were not fluid enough. Finally, Root fits her hand completely in Shaw's and an unexplainable glow takes over Root's entire face.

To Root's surprise, Shaw gives it the smallest squeeze, and a toothy grin breaks out on her face, shining like the only visible star in the city night.

"So," Root starts, unable to mask the absolute euphoria surrounding her words. "Where are we going?"

"Just a place I know," Shaw replies, voice slightly distant. From the corner of her eye, Root can see something like troubled concentration on Shaw's face. Eyes showing the thought deep within them. Tilting her head more Shaw's way, Root watches it change. As if the full moon had risen, Shaw's face morphs from woman to wolf. Her eyes narrow, lip upturned in a sneer and skin prickling with aggression. Confused, Root directs her own gaze to where Shaw's looking, only to see the last glimpse of a man passing by. When her eyes come back to Shaw, she is already back to her contemplation.

Root had seen the change before, and was never really sure what caused it. Each time Root searched for the culprit, she came up empty handed. A guy here, a small group of skater kids there, and sometimes- like tonight- nothing at all. Nonetheless, Root lets it slide from her shoulders, nothing on Earth able to extinguish the fire roaring within her.

Shaw tugs her from the main strip of the sidewalk, switching lanes and coming to a halt before a restaurant door. It's decorated in concrete spirals made to look like leaves in an arch, glass frosted with the name plated at the center in curly font.

La Bella Cucina.

_________\ If Your Number's Up /__________

After a short wait in a small room decorated to the T in italian beauty, they are taken to a table for two tucked in the back corner of the restaurant. Classic Italian music plays softly from the speakers, and the walls are painted a yellow-beige. Photographs and paintings of Italy's famous cities pop out of the walls, and the kitchen, whose door is only a few tables away, smells heavenly.

"Buon giorno," a man in all white greets them only moments after they sit, large smile on his olive face. "How are you  _lovely_  ladies doing this evening? Good?"

Root nods at him with a kind smile, but finds Shaw not doing the same. She stares at the waiter, frown on her face. He seems not to notice, nearly all of his attention on Root now.

"May I get you anything to drink,  _mio caro_?" Root tilts her head, amused and minutely embarrassed at the addressing. Whether the restaurant does this to everyone, she is unsure, but finds it a nice touch to the theme all the same.

"I'll take a water," Root responds, greeted with the waiter's mock-appalled face.

"No Campari? Not even a  _martini_?" He purses his lips with a smile, eyes narrowing playfully. "We'll save that for later, perhaps," he assures her, smiling widely at her once more. "Have you ever been here before?" He asks. "I don't believe I've had the pleasure of m-"

"You got Coca Cola in this place?" Shaw cuts him off, voice flat and eyes hot with warning. The waiter looks taken aback, as if he forgot she was there entirely.

"Ah-... no," he responds, voice no longer charming. It wilts under her intense gaze, like a flower sizzling in a desert. "Is Pepsi okay?"

Shaw gives a clipped nod, eyes not leaving him. He looks at her a moment, confusion and fear beginning to break on his skin. He reanimates, blinking a few times before plastering on an uncertain smile.

"I'll be right back with your drinks, then," he tells them before backing away from the table. A woman follows up behind him, placing down a small basket of bread and a plate of oil on the table before walking off. Shaw grabs a piece angrily, touch red hot enough to toast it.

Root, always ready to slide her way under Shaw's skin, takes advantage of her already boiled state.

"What's got  _you_  so worked up?" She asks in a coy manner, leaning into the table and selecting a slice of bread. She allows herself to stretch out, posture relaxed in the vicinity that's making Shaw so tense, and dips the bread into the oil.

Shaw notices Root's change, acknowledges what it means, and- to Root's utmost enjoyment- watches as Shaw's jaw clenches tighter. Shaw shakes her head stiffly. With anyone else, that would be the extent of her answer; however, because it's Root, she lets go a grudging grumble in reply.

"It's nothing." Root tuts in response, eyes directing right on Shaw, who isn't- or won't meet her gaze.

"Doesn't  _seem_  like nothing," Root presses, holding the humor from her voice but allowing it to escape through her eyes. Finally, Shaw's gaze snaps onto her, flustered, eyes telling her to watch it. Satisfied now that she's ruffled Shaw's feathers, Root sits back in her side of the booth, large smile escaping her as she looks out towards the rest of the restaurant; Shaw occupying herself by fiddling with her jacket's pocket. _I'm not sure what she has a problem with in this place,_ Root says to herself, eyes tracing patterns along the tile floor.  _It's pretty nice here._

Yet, something is definitely off.

 _It's too nice,_  Root thinks to herself, scanning around again. She looks for anything suspicious, and finds it all suddenly that way. Each miniature chandelier too dazzling, the music too indulgent, the taste of the bread in her mouth too rich. Is something bad going to happen? Root wonders to herself, high alert creeping into her veins. She hopes not. The two of them usually went somewhere quaint: a Chinese restaurant not far from Shaw's apartment; a little Irish place with a bar bigger than the square footage of the building; an unheard of café for a quick coffee and bagel. This place is massive in comparison. It didn't seem that way when Root first walked in, but now- as Paranoia coils its cold fingers around her brain- she finds it as large as the Taj Mahal with a chilling shudder.

"Hey, Root." Shaw's voice slinks into Root's cluttered head, echoing off the walls until it finally breaks her thoughts free like a game of Brick Breaker. Blinking twice, the restaurant shrinks back to size. "I, uh, have something for you."

Plopping the last bit of bread into her mouth, Root tears her eyes from the room, focusing back in on their table. It takes only a second for her to register the scene before her.

Sameen Shaw is sitting across from her, one arm parallel with the edge of the table, the other extended halfway out, ring clasped between her thumb and forefinger.

_Holy. Shit._

Root's eyes dilate rapidly, head dropping forward as she sucks in a bewildered gasp. Only, she can't. The bread slice instantly becomes her worst enemy, lodging itself in her throat and forcing its way down the wrong pipe. She begins to cough obnoxiously, unable to breathe and running low on oxygen already.

Finally, seconds that seem like hours later, her airway clears, and she sucks in a large breath, eyes red-rimmed. Breathing heavy, she finds Shaw holding her head in one hand, shaking it lightly, as the hand holding the ring drops down to the table. In the sudden silence, Root can feel eyes on her, and her cheeks flare up hotly. She swallows hard as the room slowly regains its old zest.

_What are you doing? Are you proposing? Why do you have a ring? What is this about?_

"Wha- wh- w-..." Root tries to form the words, but her brain has fried completely. When Shaw lifts her head from her hand, there is pure irritation on her face but the smallest hint of laughter behind brown eyes.

"You done making a scene now?" Shaw asks, voice much kinder than her countenance would have suggested. Root nods her head, giving up on speech and rendering herself momentarily mute. "Good. I just need you to wear this."

_Wait- what?_

"What?" Root asks, far too confused far too fast. She went from a front row seat on the crazy train to stranded somewhere in the woods. Shaw narrows her eyes distastefully, holding the ring up once more, its silver shine against the overhead light making it too bright to look at directly.

" _I_ ," Shaw starts once more, voice slowed immensely, "need  _you_. To  _wear_.  _This_." Still, Root's brow furrows.

"Why?" Shaw's eyes widen in annoyed disbelief, face coming a shade paler at having to explain herself.

"So the guys in this city stop hitting on you. I'm  _sick_  of it."

" _Naturally_  then, you'd have to propose," Root responds, brain still fizzing too hard for her to put much together.

"I'm  _not_  proposing," Shaw seethes, voice like a cat recoiling in a hiss. "You just need to  _look_  taken."

_Oh._

Something like water spills over Root, washing away all of the over energized nerves and leaving a calm coolness behind. Yet, as much as it is soothing, it is even more upsetting. Root can't think of what the feeling is about, and doesn't at all want to.

Root sits there a moment more, looking straight at Shaw, not moving an inch. Finally, Shaw sighs.

"It's a ring, not a grenade. Take it." In a rush of chagrin, Root realizes she's the reason why Shaw is still sitting there, hand and ring out to her. Trying to bring herself back under control, she takes the ring, slipping it on with trembling fingers. It fits perfectly- so perfectly Root is convinced it's merely in her head. Once it's on, she stops, something finally hitting her.

"Wait... guys don't hit on me," she tells Shaw in an accusatory tone, to which she gets a harsh look in response.  _At least, I don't remember any._

Sure, during their missions there almost always seemed to be that one guy that could get a little too close, but it happened to both of them about evenly, and both knew the poor saps had no chance. Yet, it was never something either of them got upset over.

"Root. The waiter."

Root thinks of their waiter for the night and his nice smile comes to her memory. She thought he was kind, a social butterfly of sorts, but did not find him advancing on her at all. Root shakes her head and sees Shaw's countering nod.

"Yes, he was," Shaw tells her, beating her to the fight. "And if they don't  _talk_  to you then the smile at you and they  _stare_  at you and-" Shaw stops, so riled that she has to pause or wind up shouting. Her jaw clenches and un-clenches tightly, hands curled into tight fists on the table.  _Like who?_  Root wants to ask, but memories slowly connect together.

All the times Shaw would get randomly hostile. As Root sifts through the moments with a sharper eye, she realizes they all have something in common. It always happened when a man was standing around; the groups of skater kids were majorly if not entirely guy-dominant; and the random times when nothing was there? It wasn't nothing at all. Because, every time, a man would be passing by her as she searched for what Shaw had been looking at.  _They were it._

"Well," Root responds, clearing her throat and sitting up straight. "I never noticed."

" _How_?" Shaw spits back, although her tone suggests she isn't expecting an answer. Root is secretly glad, not sure if she wants to tell her.

 _Because I'm always looking at you when it happens._  Root can feel the butterflies reviving in her stomach, and forces them down. Root could so easily drown out the rest of the world, focusing on Shaw entirely. In a way, Shaw was her own separate world entirely, a place of constant changes and sudden twists that Root never ceased wanting to be a part of.

"Drinks, ladies," the waiter's voice greets cheerily, and both women look over to him as he stops at the table. "Sorry it took so long, there was a pileup in the kitchen," he tells them apologetically.  _No_ , Root corrects herself, looking at him in a different light now.  _He's telling me._  In fact, his entire back is to Shaw, his hand still on Root's beverage, flashing her that award winning smile whenever he can. Root's eyes flicker over to Shaw, who looks about ready to strangle the life out of him, then back.

"It's no problem," Root responds sweetly, making certain to reach for the drink with her left hand. He looks down, his smile giving a twitch at once. He relinquishes his grip on the glass of water like it's poison, then adjusts himself to face both of them evenly. He takes their orders in a bland manner before turning away. As he goes, Root sees another twitch to his smile. It's as if his outer glow has a glitch, and Root finds herself impressed at how large of a power such a small piece of metal can have. Root's mind wanders back to the dreaded Tomas incident, and even the slightly uncomfortable time she had with Kelli Lin and Shaw working together.  _Maybe I need to get_  her  _one of these things_. Instead, a brighter idea comes to her, which is stampeded right over with the question it brings.

"Wouldn't it have been easier to get wedding bands?" Root asks Shaw, looking down at her hand for the first time. The ring is a silver snake, tail in a point at the beginning of her knuckle before the ring widens, wrapping its way three times around her finger before a diamond greets her where they head would be. Even the intricate design within the silver reminds her of snake scales.

"I don't need one," Shaw replies casually, tension of before missing entirely.

"If we both wore one, then no one would ever try to hit on  _either_  of us," Root points out, peering back up, and Shaw instantly bristles.

"They don't  _need_  to think we're  _married_ ," Shaw responds in a tight tone. "They just  _need_  to think you're  _taken_. Besides, it's only for one night anyway."

Root feels her heart sag a little, but says nothing more on the topic. There is silence between them a minute, filled only with the instrumental music and muffled mumbles of the other voices around them.

"You like it?" Shaw asks in a silent voice that somehow travels with ease to Root.

"Yeah, it's nice, Sameen," Root responds, eyes involuntarily flickering back down at its mention.

"Okay," Shaw says, something like an awkward silence filler in the word, and both settle in to drink their drinks and pick at the bread basket until their food arrives. However, as Root takes a swig of water, she can't help but wonder why it matters if she likes a ring she only has to wear for a few hours.

____________\ We'll Find You /___________

After dinner, Root and Shaw left the restaurant with a nice night and a couple of hours to kill on their hands. And so, they did what any average couple of New Yorkers do at ten o'clock Friday after a long week of work:

They went to the bar.

To Shaw's silent approval, the usual crowd of onlookers that never seemed to blink as they drunkenly looked Root over sulked away to the shadows. Shaw's amusement only grew at seeing how Root acted no different with or without them.  _As if she really had no idea people look at her at all_. It baffles Shaw, in a way, how oblivious she is to them, but how sharp her mind is in every other way. These two things, coupled with some watered down booze, left Shaw feeling pretty good.

However, as the clock struck one, it was time for them to be on their way. So, with a tip left under an empty glass, the two made their way from the bar, night having dropped a few degrees since they entered.

Now, as Shaw walks down the street, she can already feel tiredness creeping into her muscles. She hadn't drank a lot, just enough to leave her with a steady warmth circulating inside of her. Root, too, hadn't drank all that much, but she still clings to Shaw's hand, leaning on her as she stares up at the sky. Shaw allows herself to gaze up as well, but is unsure what Root sees. To her, it's only a darkness hidden behind neon lights. Still, watching Root at least pretend to star gaze is the eighth wonder of the world, and one that Shaw keeps entirely to herself. She thinks of how people always seem to stare at the sky when they are in thought, as if the answers to life's questions are written in the stars. She wonders if answers really are there after all.

_Okay, so maybe the alcohol is the one wondering that._

Shaw snaps her gaze away from Root just as Root turns her head to Shaw, and Shaw can feel her gaze intensely on the side of her face. From the corner of her eye, Shaw sees a smug smile coming to Root's face as she leans in.

"I saw you, you know," she coos close to Shaw's ear. Shaw instantly finds herself annoyed, and rolls her eyes. Apparently, though, this is not the thing she should have done, for it only causes Root more humor. She lets out an airy laugh, then looks straight ahead. Root's breath lingers, encircling Shaw and working wonders on her that alcohol can't even touch. Shaw debates upon fighting it, but closes her eyes instead, allowing the aroma to keep its rein. For the moment, at least.

"Tired?" Root asks, to which Shaw gives a short nod, opening her eyes once more. The first thing she sees is Root's face, and a lopsided half-smile comes to hang loosely on her lips.

"Yeah."

"My apartments a lot closer if you... wanna spend the night?" Root offers.

 _That sounds good to me_ , Shaw thinks to herself.

Root presses her lips together, robust grin peeking through the cracks, and she looks as if she is trying to talk herself down from a heart attack. She licks her bottom lip, eyes flickering upwards before coming back to Shaw with a vibrant glint.

" _Okay_ ," Root says, smile bursting out as she speaks, and her head tilts in. "Then let's go." With that, Root walks on a little faster, tugging Shaw along with her. Shaw's eyes widen, smile dropping as she realizes that what she thought to herself she actually  _didn't_  think to herself.  _I'm never going to hear the end of this one._

Before Shaw even realizes it, they are in front of Root's apartment building, then in the elevator. The doors close, trapping them both within, and Shaw leans her back against the metallic wall, eyeing up the electronic screen that lights up their floor number. Root hits a button, and they begin their ascent.

"Um, here," Root says, and Shaw looks over, only to see Root holding the engagement ring out to her. Root rakes a hand through her wavy hair sheepishly, eyes torn between looking at Shaw and looking absolutely anywhere else as she gives it back.

Only, Shaw doesn't want it back. Shaw stares at it a second, but a months worth of thoughts cram themselves into it.  _I want her to keep the ring_ , she thinks to herself.  _Not that I_  want  _to get married or anything_. No indeed, marriage is the last thing on her mind at all. She just wants it known that Root is not available. That Root is hers. And that ring is the easiest way of pointing it out without having to bust a few skulls in the process.  _Besides_ , Shaw adds internally,  _I got it specifically for her, what good will it do anywhere else?_

"Keep it," Shaw responds, eyes locking onto Root's. Root's eyebrow lifts in curiosity, and Shaw plays off every squirming nerve with a shrug. "You're just gonna need it the next time we go out anyway." Root nods in understanding before slipping it soundlessly back to her ring finger.

 _She likes it_ , Shaw says to herself as the elevator dings, doors sliding open to dismiss them. Root steps out first, with Shaw following a beat behind. She looks back to Root's hand secretively, the smallest of smiles slipping onto her lips.  _And I like it on her._

 


End file.
